


Throwing Out the Manual

by Unforth



Series: Kinktober 2020 [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accountant Castiel, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Anal Sex, Anal Training, Android Dean Winchester, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anxious Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Brief Castiel/Balthazar - Freeform, Happy Ending, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Like Super Brief and Not Intimate, M/M, Owner Castiel, Sex Bots, Sex Toys, Size Kink, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27122953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: After several unsuccessful attempts to have a fulfilling sexual relationship with a living partner, Castiel decides to buy a sex android and become better at sex before going "back on the market." He has a plan: to enjoy his new fancy sex toy, to train his body to take a larger cock, to get some practicing interacting with someone who won't judge him, and to improve himself with the help of his new GFA-6854 unit.Very little goes as planned.Kinktober Day 16:Fucking Machineor feederism or intercrural sex(I've taken a very liberal interpretation of what counts as a fucking machine...which is to say, I've decided a sex bot is a fucking machine...)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Kinktober 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947886
Comments: 124
Kudos: 338
Collections: Kinktober 2020, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who voted in my twitter poll to decide whether Cas or Dean would be the android. The essential story will be the same either way, and hopefully ya'll will enjoy it regardless of whether your choice won or lost. <3
> 
> Written for Kinktober 2020. You can see the full Kinktober prompt list here: <https://twitter.com/kinktober2020/status/1292137619640459272?s=20>.
> 
> You can see my planned out list here: <https://unforth.tumblr.com/post/630614210701819904/alrightgiven-how-ive-felt-in-september-i-dont>. 
> 
> Unedited.

_ Congratulations on the purchase of your Factory-Refurbished GFA-6854 Unit! Please thoroughly read these instructions before you activate your GFA-6854 Unit. _

Running a finger over the edge of the thick booklet that had come with his new android, Castiel sighed. He’d done a lot of research before settling on the GFA-6854. He could have gotten a lower-end model brand new, but none of the other bots had the GFA-6854’s combination of features - male models designed for sex with men, interchangeable penile attachments, multiple personality settings, life-like body warmth...the GFA-6854 was the full package, Mr. Right minus a pulse. 

Actually...Castiel was fairly sure “human-mimicking heartbeat-like sound” and “inflating pseudo-lung sack to simulate breathing” were on the list of features.

Still, it couldn’t be Mr. Right, because it was a sex bot. 

Castiel set the booklet aside and glanced at his unpackaged robot. Lying still with rigidly perfect posture, it didn’t look lifelike. The skin had a plastic sheen. The hands and feet, fingers and toes, shoulders and hips, were all in perfect alignment, the head facing straight up and fixed in a slack expression. In the months that Castiel had spent on the waiting list for his unit, he’d already read the manual at least four times through. Everytime he spotted something he didn’t remember reading the previous time, but surely there could be no more surprises  _ now _ . He knew which personality profile he wanted. He knew what settings he needed. He knew, he’d  _ always  _ known, what he wanted, even if he hadn’t been able to find anyone to help him through it. 

For better or for worse, the GFA-6854 wouldn’t be able to say no, wouldn’t break up with him, wouldn’t complain that he was too needy, wouldn’t judge him. It had no say in participating in this relationship, and why should it? It was just a super-fancy, ludicrously expensive computer that Castiel had spent three year’s savings on. It was his, to use as he would, and it was ready.

The GFA-6854 had been plugged in overnight. 

The LED behind it’s left ear that indicated its charge level was pure green. 

The power button was barely visible within the nearby ear canal, only because Castiel knew where to look. 

All he had to do was…

Reaching out, Castiel held a trembling finger and held it against the button. The raised pattern of a circle pierced by a single line was prominent against his sensitive skin. 

_ What if it doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like it? What if this was a monumentally terrible idea? What if...what if...what if… _

_...there’s only one way to find out. _

...and Castiel pressed the button.

The change in the GFA-6854 was instant; it sprang to life, eyes opening, hair shifting, chest rising and falling. Castiel had watched videos of the unit in operation, yet he was still awed by how naturally it moved as it sat up and smiled it at him, its pupils shrinking and dilating as it apparently examined him but in actuality scanned him six ways from Sunday.

“Please enter your product key,” it announced in a neutral, mechanical voice. Personality could only be set up after activation. Castiel did so, carefully reciting the alpha-numeric code on the back of his instruction manual, and waited while the GFA-6854 validated his information. “Product key accepted. Commencing step one of set up: owner profile. Please enter your full name.”

The process of setting up the GFA-6854 was long and tedious, but question by question, Castiel got through it. The hardest part was entering his sexual preferences and experience...or lack thereof...and that he had so much difficulty with it, even when he’d had months to prepare, validated what several of his exes had told him - that his hang ups were  _ his _ , and that they’d have been more patient if he hadn’t been so self-effacing, passive, and embarrassed all the time.

But it  _ was  _ embarrassing. He was super sensitive, and he could hardly get a finger in his body, much less an entire dick. He  _ wanted  _ to bottom, desperately, and that he couldn’t was mortifying.

Still, he’d clearly internalized that shame too deeply if even telling it to the sex toy he’d bought brought a blush to his cheeks.

Finally, though, the ordeal was at an end, and there was only one step left.

“Set up step 14: select your preferred automated intelligence profile from the choices listed in your user’s manual.”

This, Castiel had down.

This, Castiel wasn’t embarrassed about.

The AIs all started with the same baseline personality traits, with specific preferences and interests integrated based on the data that Castiel had provided in steps one through thirteen. It was hardly comprehensive, but the rest of the AIs development would proceed after he picked his profile, and it selected a name from a randomized list, and opened its eyes to look at him as a person instead of merely as an owner.

“Profile 54, version C,” Castiel said.

“Initiating your selection. System restart commencing in 5...4...3...2...1…”

The eyes closed.

The android went stiff.

The LED behind its... _ his _ ...ear blinked yellow, yellow, yellow...then green...and the eyes opened once more. The difference between the neutral base settings and this new personality were stark. Where before it... _ he _ , damn it...had competently mimicked life without affect, now he leaned forward, folded his legs up underneath himself as he sat on Castiel’s bed, leaned an elbow on his knee, and broke into a confident half-smile.

“My name is Dean,” he said in a low, sinful voice. “I’m an aquarius. I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky men.”

“I’m Castiel,” replied Castiel, heat simmering inside him. “But you can call me Cas.” That voice was sin incarnate, and the unit’s...Dean’s...easy confidence and obvious interest were heady. All fake, of course, but Castiel still appreciated feeling wanted. It had been a long, lonely while.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious - I’ve got the basics about you down pat,” Dean said, tapping a finger against his forehead even though his internal memory was actually stored in his belly; the entire head cavity was dedicated to the servos that enabled Dean to express a nearly-human range of facial expressions and reactions. “But that’s the boring shit.”

_ He’s kind of a jerk. _

“Oh.”

_ And he already thinks I’m boring. _

_ Maybe this really was a terrible idea. _

“What I really want to know is…” Dean trailed off leadingly, expectation brightening his look, and Castiel waited to hear what he had in store.  _ What I really want to know is...who is my real owner? What do you want in bed? How much do you make in a year? Can I datamine you for my manufacturer? Lay it on me… _ “Zep or Metallica?”

_ Wow. My self-confidence really is rock bottom. I don’t just need a sexbot, I need therapy. _

“...who?” he asked blankly. Which was a dumb thing to say, really, since he’d  _ heard  _ of Led Zeppelin and Metallica, and could have at least indicated as much, though he didn’t know a single song by either.

_ But what I’ve  _ got  _ is a sexbot, with a personality I picked because he was cocksure, outgoing, confident, and interested in things that I’d like to learn more about. _

“Whoa, whoa, hold the phone--”

“We’re not on the phone, we’re in my bedroom.”

“--and that was actually pretty fucking funny,” chuckled Dean. “Do you mean to tell me you don’t even  _ know _ about the greatest hits of mullet rock?”

“Is calling it mullet rock supposed to be complimentary?” Castiel asked.

“I mean, I can grow a mullet if that’s what floats your boat,” Dean shrugged, a natural motion that showed off the finely crafted musculature of his chest, the thickness of his sculpted shoulders, and the perfect cut of his gorgeous chin. “But first, you have got to hear this. Gimme bluetooth access, I’ll pipe it through your soundsystem.”

Worries crested in Castiel again, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes at himself. Was he seriously freaking out over whether he’d get rejected by his own sexbot? Apparently, he needed a sexbot  _ and  _ therapy. He’d look into the second - he should have known, after so many years, that the right guy, or the right toy, wouldn’t solve all that ailed him - but for now, he might as well enjoy the first.

“Absolutely, Dean,” Castiel said warmly, picking up his phone to authorize access to the bluetooth system that ran his smart house. “Play me your favorite by each band, and I’ll let you know what I think. Though, I can’t promise to like either.”

“Pssh, bullshit,” grinned Dean. “You look like a guy with excellent taste, and anyone with  _ any  _ taste is gonna  _ love  _ Zep.” His LED flashed blue as it connected, and Castiel hit all the necessary security approvals. “Hmm...I’m thinkin’...”

Castiel had no idea if he’d like Led Zeppelin or Metallica, but he  _ was  _ sure that, whatever opinion Castiel offered, Dean would find a way to turn it into a positive. Accommodating Castiel was part of Dean’s programming, after all.

“...Ramble On for Zep…”

And regardless, Castiel  _ did  _ know…

“...and Iron Man for Metallica…”

...his boring life was about to get  _ way  _ more interesting.

“Let’s  _ rock this _ shit!”

And Castiel couldn’t  _ wait _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to try to write and post this one all at once today but my energy levels are crashing (I dealt with a Tumblr drama storm for two days, and then today my brother and mom popped in with brand new totally different drama, and sigh). I don't want to post nothing, especially after talking about it on tumblr and twitter, so here, have the first chunk, and I'll do my best to write the rest tomorrow.
> 
> I expect this to be around 8 chapters and 10k words. And I'm only posting that so that we can see how wrong I am. Since I'm always wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh okay sorry about yesterday, I didn't sleep well and woke up early and was just blaaaaah. I also had a deadline for a zine hanging over my head and a 5k fic to edit, and that was making me nervous, so I used my feeling crappy day to get that edited, and so that's one less thing to worry about.
> 
> Not sure how far I'll get today but I'll do my best!
> 
> Unedited.

The box of penile attachments that Castiel had ordered at the same time as he’d bought Dean sat on top of his chest of drawers unopened. Every day, Castiel eyed it. Every day, Castiel examined the mental hang ups that held him back. Every day, Castiel decided that today wasn’t the day to deal with those hang ups, either.

He  _ had  _ gotten a therapist, and having someone to talk to about his relationship neuroses helped.

He had Dean, too, and Dean was...well, Castiel  _ would  _ have said that Dean was great, because he absolutely was, but he was great in a way that Castiel could never bring himself to trust. After all, Dean was a sexbot AI, not a person, and everything he said, everything he did, everything he claimed to feel, was the result of programming and fancy algorithms. Castiel genuinely liked Dean, and that scared him, because what was the use of genuinely likely an android? He  _ should  _ put emotionality aside and focus on sexuality. He should stop chatting about music and media with Dean, stop arguing about favorite books with him, stop Dean’s quest to find a Metallica song that Castiel wouldn’t hate, stop all the forms of reparatee they’d engaged in since Dean had arrived two months ago. He should open the box of penile attachments - a fancy dilator set with seven different sizes intended to help Castiel get more comfortable with being inserted into - and put the smallest one into Dean’s crotch socket and use his sex bot as a sex bot, and not for anything else.

He knew, truly and thoroughly and deeply, that that’s what he should do.

Instead, he woke up at 7 AM every morning, and after a couple days of learning Castiel’s routine, Dean did the same, activating from a rest state and heading to the kitchen.

Instead, Dean made him breakfast, and they fought over who got which sections of the newspaper, and they read and discussed whatever caught their interest over a meal of eggs and bacon for Castiel and lubricants and essential operational fluids for Dean.

Instead, Dean gave him a warm smile and a friendly hug when he left for work at 8:30.

Instead, Dean was waiting for him, lounging on the couch, when Castiel got home from work at 5 PM.

Instead, Castiel made dinner or reheated leftovers, and Dean scrolled through Netflix for a movie, and if they couldn’t agree on something they’d throw rock-paper-scissors for it, and Dean would  _ always _ throw scissors, and Castiel genuinely had no idea if it was a programming bug or a personal preference and he was too afraid to ask.

Instead, the evening would pass pleasantly, and they’d snuggle, and Dean’s simulated heartbeat and fake breathing and occasional, slightly tinny artificial rumbles would soothe Castiel, and they’d finish whatever they were watching, and Castiel would head to bed alone.

Bringing Dean with him felt  _ wrong _ . Dean was an android, but when Castiel looked at him, his brain said,  _ person _ , and - more problematically -  _ slave _ , and Castiel didn’t want to force anything on him...but he was also afraid to have an actual conversation about it.

He was sure Dean would look at him like he’d sprouted a second head, and pull some pop-culture reference from his database that Castiel didn’t recognize. Such reassurance would do absolutely nothing to assuage Castiel. Heck, it’d do the opposite. If Dean said it was totally fine it would be a stark, sharp reminder that Dean  _ wasn’t  _ a person, he was a  _ thing _ , and he had has much agency as a toaster oven.

It was supremely frustrating to have purchased a sex bot only to discover he wasn’t actually comfortable having sex with it. On the other hand, it was damn nice to have a roommate, and it was strangely relieving to have an entirely new set of relationship hang-ups, so different than the ones that had plagued him for so long.

_ Relationship? _

_ Is that what this is? _

Changing into his PJs after another day nearly indistinguishable than any other, Castiel eyed the box again. Even if he didn’t attach the penile pieces to Dean, it seemed a pity to waste them. Maybe he should unpack the box...use them as a dildo...work on his anal dilation issues all on his own…

_...or maybe I should talk to Dean. _

_ I don’t even know what I’d say. _

_ Yet...today...maybe it’s just ‘cause I’m horny, but I’d kind of like to try. _

Huffing out a breath, Castiel sat on the edge of his bed...then stood...paced toward the door...then made himself turn around...circled the room to turn on his bedside lamp...then stalked back to his chest of drawers...and then stopped and shook his head.

This was ridiculous.

They’d been living together for two months, and they’d talked about all kinds of things, and that Castiel couldn’t talk to Dean about  _ this  _ was...was...was…

_...more proof that I need the therapy I’m thankfully getting now. _

_...maybe I should talk to Dr. Moseley about this _ .

Except he knew what Dr. Moseley would say, as surely as he knew what Dean would say if Castiel asked to get laid. Neither answer would help, because Castiel didn’t actually have a question, and he didn’t actually needed an answer. But there  _ was  _ something he  _ had  _ to say to Dean. Nodding decisively, he pulled open the bedroom door and headed down the hall. His house was small - a single bedroom, modest living room with a single couch, tiny bathroom and closet-like kitchen. Dean spent nights on the couch, plugged into a high-voltage wall outlet that Castiel had installed especially for him, eyes closed as he mimicked the appearance of sleep. Castiel stepped into the room, flicked on a light, and Dean sprang to instant life, blinking in surprise.

“Yo, what’s up?” Dean asked, sitting up and resting an arm over the back of the couch as he looked over at Castiel. His expression was earnest, trusting, and kind. Freckles had developed on his cheeks, which was a wonder of android design that Castiel couldn’t begin to fathom, and his hair was a lighter shade than when Castiel had bought him and had needed to be cut twice. He was  _ dangerously _ lifelike, and Castiel wanted him even more badly than he had when he first selected his model from the many on offering.

_ And if I touch him sexually, I’ll feel like I’m taking advantage, like he’s a child or something...not that anything about him is actually childlike, but...but...oh, I don’t even know. It’s insane, and yet….what’s there to say? _

_ I should lie and say I decided I needed one last cup of tea.  _

_ No. I should stop being an idiot and tell him what’s been on my mind. Enough of avoiding this. It’s absurd. I’m so socially timid I can’t even have a straightforward discussion with my sex robot and I can’t keep going like this. _

“You know you don’t have to stay here, right?” Castiel blurted out. Dean blinked at him again, and however much Castiel wanted to believe he was still accustoming himself to the room’s sudden brightness, he knew it was actually confusion. “Like, when I’m at work, or at all. Sometimes I think about you sitting here by yourself all day when I’m out, and it sits so badly. I hate feeling like I  _ own  _ you, even though of course I do, and I get that, and it’s ridiculous. I hate that you’re dependent on me. I hate…” He whooshed out a breath, no other words coming, his mind suddenly blank. “...I hate this.”

“Alright…lemme get this straight,” said Dean, raising a hand to his forehead and rubbing at his temples. “You’re suffering some delusion that I don’t do anything ‘cept wait for you, and you think I’m dependent on you, and you hate me?”

“What?! No! I hate...I hate  _ this _ , I hate knowing you’re trapped, and I hate leaving you alone, and I hate that I’m bad at expressing all that - so bad that you interpreted it as me hating  _ you _ , which I don’t at all, and...wait.” Castiel frowned. “Did you say I suffer from a delusion?”

Dean rolled his eyes, stood up, and walked across the room. “Spare keys in the drawer,” he announced, slapping a palm against the small table Castiel left beside the door. “Google map of the whole city in my noggin.” He tapped his head. “Lifelike, human-passing appearance, and this kick-ass wardrobe you sponsored, and this winning personality? The world is my goddamn  _ oyster _ , Cas.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. I seriously can’t  _ believe  _ you thought I was, like, useless without you around. What the actual fuck? Heck, I’ve even makin’ a few bucks on the side - hustling the bar lunch crowd at pool, doing odd jobs, even picked up a few construction shifts. Didn’t you even notice that this shirt wasn’t one you got me?”

“I mean...it didn’t look familiar but...and...and...that’s not legal…androids aren’t allowed to work, and you don’t have a social security number.” The tax implications alone were enough to make Castiel’s nerves jangle. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dean scoffed. “You gonna stop me?” There was a challenge in his voice, and anger in his eyes, and confidence in his swagger, and all of Castiel’s concerns about Dean’s autonomy evaporated.

If Dean wanted to leave - if Dean didn’t want to be with Castiel - obviously, he could have done so at literally any time. Yet he kept coming back. And that was...it was  _ wonderful _ .

“Honestly, Dean?” Castiel broke into a relieved, beatific smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good.” Dean sounded disgruntled, and Castiel couldn’t make heads nor tails of his expression, so he quirked an eyebrow by way of asking. “I mean. I wouldn’t’a told you if I thought you’d get a bee in your bonnet ‘bout it, but, ya know, odds were only 69.2% in my favor, and that’s far from a sure thing. You’re far from a sure thing. Who buys a sex bot and then doesn’t fuck it?”

“I do, apparently,” Castiel sighed. “I just realized, as your owner, that I couldn’t. You’re too  _ real _ . If you were just a doll, it’d be different, but because you’re…”

“An android?”

“... _ you _ . You’re so  _ you _ . And so I worried, and now I see how foolish and short-sighted that was of me, because you  _ are  _ you, and if you were unhappy of course you wouldn’t stay.”

“Look, dude, the only thing I’m unhappy about is that you’re not riding me nightly,” replied Dean brightly. “Ya know. Kinda what I’m made for.”

“Yes, exactly the problem. How does this industry even function, if every android is as human as you?”

“Can I let you in on a trade secret?” Dean said.

“Would you have asked me that if you weren’t about to tell it to me?” countered Castiel.

“Touche. We have abuse protocols,” said Dean. Castiel tilted his head to the side. “ ‘Cause we’ve got personalities, we can experience trauma, but we can’t go to the police, so our programming team put in a backdoor. If things are bad, if we’re unhappy, heck, even if we just don’t jibe with our owner, we reset daily. Not, like, on essentials, and user preferences and such stay, but the bad shit? Poof. Gone. Heck, I’ve met a bot or two out in the wild who tell me they reset from time to time just for fun. They pick which memories they want to keep and which they don’t. Say it keeps things fresh, and their humans don’t even notice.”

“And how many times have you reset?” asked Castiel.

Dean held his hand up in an OK symbol - no, that was supposed to be a zero, Castiel thought - and popped his lips.

“Because you’re happy?”

“How can you even fuckin’ ask? This is, like - dream gig. Understanding owner, creative freedom, all day to do whatever the fuck I want, cool dude to come home to and bicker with? What more could I want?”

“...for me to, what did you say, ‘ride you nightly’?”

“Did you just  _ air quote  _ me?” spluttered Dean, breaking into laughter. “See, that’s exactly the kinda shit I mean. You’re  _ goals _ , Cas. Heck, when I told the bartender bot at my favorite bar about you, she asked if you wanted a threesome. So no, I haven’t reset, and I’m not unhappy, and of course I come back every night. I like it here. And I’ll pay you back, and then some, for the clothes and all that jazz. Heck, if you want to keep pretending we’re just roommates I can even chip in for rent. Truly, seriously, the only thing I regret is--”

“Not being ridden?”

“Not having the opportunity to fuck you senseless. Because I think you’d enjoy it, and I fuckin’  _ know  _ I would.”

“Don’t you have...like...an imperative to like your owner, though?” Desperation tinged Castiel’s voice, and it took him way too long to put together that the reason he felt that way because he  _ wanted  _ Dean to reject him. Things would be so much less complicated that way. Except he didn’t  _ actually  _ want that...he wanted someone, anyone, even if it was only his own bought-and-paid-for sex bot, to want him for himself.

“Imperative?” Dean asked blankly.

Pathetic.

“Obedience? Following commands? If I told you that you weren’t  _ allowed  _ to leave the house anymore, would you be able to countermand that?”

“Dude...did you  _ read  _ my personality description before you picked it?”

“Of course I did! But I thought…”

“Nope. You picked Operational Model Team Free Will. If I think something is shit, I’m gonna say it. If I don’t like where I am, I’m gonna leave. And if I’m good…” Dean shrugged. “Then I’m good. And...I’m good. But I’d rather be great, if you know what I mean.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Follow me,” Castiel commanded, turning and striding back to his bedroom. Dean hopped to follow, in ironic contrast to his recent assurance that he wasn’t subject to Castiel’s commands, but Castiel wasn’t worried anymore. Trusting Dean to keep close, Castiel grabbed his box, ripped the tape off the top, and dug out the penises within. Dean blinked as Castiel lay them out in a row on his bed, the smallest about the same length and girth as a tampon (and that was a ludicrously awkward comparison and he  _ never  _ wanted to think of it that way again) and the biggest roughly pornography star sized.

“Dean, I’d like to ‘ride you’ while you use this one?” Castiel said, picking up the smallest attachment. “I’ve never been able to bottom during anal sex because I’m sensitive and my body instinctively rejects insertion. I want to get better about that, and I want you to help me, but only if you want to as well. What do you think?”

With a cocky grin, Dean flung himself onto the bed. He was heavier than a person; the boxspring shrieked a protest, the bedframe creaked, and the attachments bounced onto the floor. His hands were at his fly before the bed stilled; reaching into his pants, he pulled out his penis whole, tossed it aside, and held out a hand for Castiel to give him the attachment.

“Let’s  _ do this _ !” Dean grinned. Castiel stared at him, as he laughed, as he attached his new penis, as he shucked his pants, as he pulled off his shirt, as he stopped and met Castiel’s eyes with a cocky expression that failed to mask vulnerability.

_ He really does want this. _

_ And...and I really do want this, too. _

_ I’m so glad I talked to him, because all those fears that kept me back seem a world away now.  _

_ I’m so glad he’s here, and he’s mine...I’m so glad we waited...I’m so glad he wants this, as badly as I do. _

“Yes, Dean. Let us do this.”

_ And I’m so, so, so very glad, that this will mean something, to both of us. _

“Now, don’t get anxious, Cas...we’ll just take it nice and slow…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been wondering why this fic isn't tagged dub-con...this is why. Hopefully this makes it clear that Dean is capable of consent? It's obviously still muddled, because programming, but...I tried.
> 
> I'll get up more tomorrow if I possibly can! And I'm gonna aim to finish Saturday. (I have less writing time this week than I usually do cause my mom usually helps watch the little a couple days a week but she's out of town until tomorrow, so I'm completely solo, which cost me, like, almost 8 hours of writing time, and I totally didn't think that part through when I planned my fics for this week, oops.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright ya'll I was really busy yesterday, and today I feel quite impressively crappy (probably because of all the ancient dust and paint I kicked up while doing the "busy," much of which was prying ancient wooden siding off the front of my house.) I'll try to get up more than once chapter but I'm crashing so quickly that I'm genuinely not sure anymore. I was hoping to finish today but I really don't think it's gonna happen.
> 
> Onward...

“Hey, Cas,” Dean rumbled, walking into the kitchen and crowding Castiel’s back as he washed the dishes. A tingle ran down Castiel’s spine, anticipation and desire. Sex had always seemed like work before, had always been stressful, because he dreaded the reaction of his partner to his hang ups, and feared being rejected, and worried about his body’s involuntary reaction to any attempt at penetration, and, and, and. None of that with Dean; from the first day they finally tumbled into bed together, Dean had been a dream lover. And while yes, that had of course been the entire purpose of purchasing a sex bot, the reality never seemed as simple as the baseline transaction should have rendered it. Spend money, get good sex from android...obvious. But Dean was kind and funny and emotive and engaged and sometimes said no, he didn’t feel like it, and never pressured Castiel, and always stayed to cuddle him afterwards.

It felt like a real relationship, and not one that Castiel wanted to end simply so he could find someone flesh and blood instead of polycarbonate and current.

“Hello, Dean,” murmured Castiel, tilting his head to the side. Dean took the invitation, kissing at the curve of his neck with soft, warm lips, damp with pseudo-saliva. Tendrils of heat seeped through Castiel’s body, curling his toes against the tile floor, prompting his penis to twitch and start to thicken. “I said after dinner…”

“It  _ is  _ after dinner,” said Dean, rolling his hips against Castiel’s backside. His erection was already thick, and bigger than Castiel remembered... _ actually _ bigger, because after weeks of getting Castiel comfortable with the smallest dilater, he was finally ready for the second, and tonight was the night.

“...but the dishes…” Castiel’s plaintive reply would have been more effective if his eyes hadn’t slipped shut, if he hadn’t been scrubbing the same spot on the same plate for at least a minute.

“I’ll stop if you want me to…” and that Dean offered was so perfect, but also absolutely unthinkable. Castiel shook his head vehemently and Dean chuckled, sultry, sinful, tempting. Arms reached around him - Dean took the plate and sponge from Castiel and setting them down, dragged Castiel’s hands under the faucet to wash away the soapy water clinging to his skin, and shut off the taps.

“...Dean…”

“I know, sweetheart.” Dean’s kisses grew more aggressive and his hands grasped Castiel’s hips, pulling Castiel back against him as he rutted forward. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” A soft moan, eager and hopeful, escaped Castiel, and he leaned back. “Gonna take such good care of you tonight.” Dean was so hot, so strong, and - judging by the way the fabric of Castiel’s clothing rubbed against him - already naked.

“Always...always do…”

“So glad you think so…” One of Dean’s hands slid over the front of Castiel’s pants to fondle Castiel’s swelling erection, stroking and kneading at sensitive flesh, and Castiel’s groaned low and long. “Look at you, desperate and hard already...come a long way, ain’t cha?”

“...not...not yet...but hope to soon…”

“...was that a sex joke?” laughed Dean.

“Apparently not, since you have to ask,” grumbled Castiel, an irritated pout puckering his lips even as his hips rocked backward and forward, chasing the feel of Dean’s erection slotted against his backside and the push of Dean’s hand against his penis. “But an attempt was made.”

“Well, don’t you worry that pretty, hilarious head of yours...you’ll come when we’re both good and ready, and not a moment sooner.” Dean was so confident, so apparently experienced, and Castiel loved...no. He quashed that thought. “Bedroom?” Many of the ways he and Dean interacted pushed the boundaries of normal android-human relationships, and Castiel was fine with them, but certain things were best left unsaid, and unthought. 

Castiel shook his head. “Too far.”

“Oh ho, someone is desperate tonight, huh?” Dean laughed and rutted against him harder. Castiel’s breath sped up, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each desperate inhale. “Couch?”

“Here,” interrupted Castiel harshly. “Want you...need you...right here…”

“Dunno…seems messy…” Dean said, eyeing the sink. “How about…” 

A powerful hand gripped Castiel’s shoulder, another his hip, and the two steered him around to face toward the door. His kitchen was tiny, with barely room for a sink, fridge, oven, a few cabinets, and a tiny two-seat table where he ate all his meals. Anticipating being dragged out of the room, Castiel set a foot before himself and nearly tripped as, instead, Dean completed a 180 and used the hand on his shoulder to bend Castiel over the table. His face slapped the formica surface and knocked the air from him as Dean turned his attention to Castiel’s pants. Two sharp tugs pulled them over Castiel’s hips, still belted and buckled, and they dropped about Castiel’s ankles with a  _ fwoomp _ of gathered fabric. A finger skimmed over Castiel’s hole, sliding easily through the lubricant that Castiel had liberally applied.

“Already prepped?” said Dean. “I’m genuinely impressed - when didya manage  _ that _ ?”

“While my casserole was in the--” Castiel broke off with a sharp inhale as hard penis pressed against his entrance. The new attachment felt huge compared to the previous, though Castiel had seen the two side by side and knew the difference was negligible, maybe a finger-and-a-half in girth instead of a single finger, and maybe a half-inch longer.

_ There’s no way...it’s too big...maybe I’m not ready after all...if I asked Dean, he’d switch back, I know he would… _

Thickness stretched his rim, pushing in ever so slightly. 

_...but I don’t want to stop... _

“Shit, that’s tight, Cas…”

_...I want to feel this. I want to feel so much more than this. _

“Please, Dean…”

“ ‘Course, Cas, I wasn’t say...unless you want--”

“I don’t!”

A soothing, hot hand ran down Castiel’s spine, rough skin spawning shivers, as Dean obeyed, easing slowly into Castiel’s body. Pain twinged outward where his rim pinched and stretched and parts of him that had never been touched were stimulated. 

Maybe he wasn’t ready.

Maybe he’d never be ready.

But…

...he wanted to try this.

But…

...it never felt good right away.

But…

...Dean wanted him, and wanted to take care of, and Castiel wanted to do this for him, for both of them.

“Look perfect stretched around me,” Dean breathed, using both hands to massage up Castiel’s back. 

Relaxation spread outward, bringing calm contentment as his body accommodated Dean by degrees. Dean rocked back slightly, rocked forward slightly, humming his satisfaction as he moved without a snag and the first waves of pleasure radiated outward. The feeling was soft, subdued, but it was good, and got better with every gentle thrust. A sigh relaxed Castiel against the table, and Dean thrust. He hitched his hips up, and Dean thrust. He moaned, and Dean thrust, and Dean thrust, and Dean thrust.

“Good?” Dean asked, and he sounded genuinely concerned, and the heat of bliss and affection in Castiel’s chest intensified by degrees.

“So good,” groaned Castiel. “Shouldn’ta…” Thrust. “...shouldn’ta a worried…” Thrust. “...always take care of me…” Thrust. “...such good care…” 

Thrust...thrust...thrust...Dean maintained a slow pace, deliberate and controlled. Sweat beaded along Castiel’s back, smearing where Dean massaged, and Dean’s artificial sweat glands added to the mix, dampness between his thighs and Castiel’s backside muting the slap of skin that sounded each time he embedded himself deep in Castiel’s body. Pleasure flared like incandescent and fire through Castiel’s veins as the last of his worries fled. Yes, Dean was bigger, and it was  _ glorious _ , and Castiel needed...he needed…

“...please…” he whispered, hoarse, his breath fogging the tabletop before his face. The only answer was another thrust, and another, so he licked his lips and tried again. “Please, Dean.”

“Yeah?” Dean swallowed hard, voice raspy and deep with arousal. “Tell me, Cas.” Castiel still hadn’t figured out how much he actually felt, but he sure seemed to enjoy sex, and was as effusive and demonstrative of his enjoyment as any partner Castiel had ever had - more so than many, uninhibited by shame and faux-masculine stoicism. “Whaddaya need?”

If only Castiel knew the answer - if only  _ he  _ was uninhibited by shame and faux-masculine stoicism. “...please…” he moaned again, struggling to push back against Dean’s thrusts. “Oh, please.” The certainty that he needed more dominated his mind, but he wasn’t sure what more constituted. “...please, please, please, pl--”

“Can’t...can’t read your mind,” groaned Dean, “Gotta tell me. Gotta--” There was a squelch, and Dean’s penis popped out of Castiel’s body. A deprived sob burst out of Castiel and he arched off the table.

“In me!” he cried. “Now, Dean - now!”

“I gotchu!” Dean obeyed, one hand holding Castiel’s backside still, the other lining him up. With a single hard thrust, he sank all the way into Castiel’s body. Castiel’s senses washed with bliss, and he knew - he  _ knew  _ \- what he needed.

“More!” said Castiel. “Harder, Dean.”

“You s--”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ question me,” Castiel hissed, pushing back against Dean urgently. Startled laughter barked from Dean, and yet he still moved slowly, and Castiel had a rebuke on the tip of his tongue when Dean abruptly drew back and slammed into him hard. Light like fireworks lit of the back of Castiel’s eyelids - when had he closed his eyes? - and the table scraped against the floor.

“Better?” teased Dean.

“Again,” Castiel pleaded. “Do it again--” and Dean did “--and again--” and Dean did “--and again!” And Dean did, going harder and faster than they ever had. The table creaked and rattled, and Castiel groaned and squirmed. His penis was heavy between his legs, achingly hard, untouched, and dripping early release to splash about his toes. Desperate to steady himself, to ground himself before the onslaught, Castiel reached across the table to wrap his fingers around the far edge and scrambled with his other hand to stroke himself.

“It’s good?” Warmth crowded his back; Dean leaned forward, and each pounding thrust sank into Castiel deeper, stimulated him more, drove him higher. Words were impossibly, but he managed an approving groan. Fingers intertwined with his around his penis, Dean rubbing with him, strokes in time to his rough thrusts. 

_ Good _ hardly felt adequate...incredible...superb...ecstatic...Castiel’s mind was awash in color and rapture and Dean - always Dean, caring for him, tending him, pleasuring him. Surely, there had to be a way to express to Dean how much this meant to him...surely, there must be a way to put into words how  _ wonderful _ Dean was, and how wonderful Castiel’s time with Dean was...surely there was...surely there was…

“Let it go, sweetheart,” whispered Dean, sucking at his earlobe, kissing the sensitive skin along the nape of his neck. “Knew you wouldn’t be a long time coming...lemme feel you...lemme do this for you…”

“You do!” Castiel gasped. “Always you, Dean…” 

_Only you, Dean!_ _I want...I need…_

...and with another thrust, and a rough stroke down Castiel’s length, climax twisted through Castiel. Ragged cries of bliss burst from him as his come splattered the floor. His body tensed around Dean, but Dean didn’t stop thrusting, groaning in Castiel’s ear, mouthing at his neck and shoulder. Every rub through Castiel’s channel, every further bit of pressure to his prostate, prolonged the peak of his pleasure, and he could swear the moment went on and on until Dean went stiff, fingers digging into Castiel’s hip, and pumped his heated artificial semen into Castiel’s body.

“Oh, wow…” breathed Castiel. Dean grunted agreement. His hips stuttered against Castiel’s behind. A wet noise, fart-like, and the feeling of liquid oozing down Castiel’s thighs suggested some quantity of come had been forced out of him. The brush of Dean’s skin against his was intoxicating, and suddenly the whole situation seemed  _ hilarious _ . There Castiel was, clinging to his kitchen table like it was the last raft in a storm, shirt gone - he had absolutely  _ no idea  _ when that had happened, had noticed Dean kissing at his skin and rubbing at his flesh without having the least guess why there was no longer fabric separating them - and pants tangled about his feet, his come a puddle on the floor, and Dean enveloping him, and it was glorious and wonderful and he felt so good that all he could do was laugh and laugh and laugh. The sound and accompanying movement tensed his muscles, and Dean gasped and pulled back, adding the slick slap of softening penis on perineum to the ludicrousness, and Castiel laughed harder.

“Ya know…” said Dean, disgruntled...Castiel twisted around to see him, and he looked so offended that it became even funnier. “Gonna fuck my ego up if ya keep laughing like that.”

“ _ Bull _ ,” Castiel spluttered out, sliding to the floor and landing in the puddle of come. It was far too much, far too wonderful, and he clutched his sides and struggled to get enough air. “You see…” He gasped, trying to manage even a few words. “...see me laughin’...this way...for anyone else?”

_ No he hasn’t, because I never have.  _

Dean’s laughter joined his own. “ _ And  _ you cursed!”

_ Only for Dean. _

“I did! Cause what you said was  _ bullshit _ , Dean!”

_ Only for Dean do I laugh like this, feel like this, smile like this, come like this. _

“I’m gettin’ that, Cas...wow, you are  _ gone _ …”

_ Only for Dean do I  _ want  _ to laugh like this, feel like this, smile like this, come like this. _

“...nope! Right here!”

_ And that’s a problem. _

The thought doused Castiel like a bucket of ice water dumped over his after-glow heated body. His laughter ended abruptly, his chest clenched, and a shiver wracked him. Blinking away tears - he had he been laughing? He felt like crying - he looked up at Dean as Dean looked down at him, still smiling, eyes aglow, freckled cheeks flushed.

_ Remember what the purpose of all this was, Cas? Remember why I bought Dean? So that I could learn how to have a real relationship with an actual person. Not so I could develop...whatever these feelings are...for my semi-sentient sex toy. _

Dean’s brow furrowed, his laughter fading.

_...perhaps that was true but let me count the ways that I’m engaging in self-deception. Because this is a real relationship. Dean is an actual person. Dean may be a sex toy but he’s clearly entirely sentient, I’ve seen ample evidence of that. _

“Something the matter, Cas?”

_ But I’m still his owner, and he’s still my android, and clearly I need to expand my horizons before I grow dangerously attached to him. _

“No, Dean. Everything his fine.” The lie was hollow on his lips, and he was pretty sure that Dean noticed, but he wouldn’t elaborate, wouldn’t apologize, wouldn’t allow himself to think longer. He hated losing how good he’d felt moments before, hated disappointing Dean, hated disappointing himself.

_ If it’s not too late already. _

“Kay, kay...you know you could tell me if something was wrong, right?”

_ I can’t let it be too late. _

“I do know that, Dean.”

_ I’m doing so much better than I was before - thanks to Dr. Moseley, thanks to Dean. _

“...right...good...come on, let’s get you to bed.”

_ Maybe it’s time to put myself back out there and just...see who I can find. _

“Thank you…”

_ What’s the worst that happens? _

Dean’s answering smile was kindness and pleasure and warmth and it was all that Castiel could do not to melt under the weight of his affection...his  _ apparent  _ affection.

_ Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. _

Castiel smiled sadly back and let Dean help him to his feet.

_ I want Dean. And that I can’t think of a single reason why I shouldn’t have him...that’s a problem, isn’t it? _

Grinning, Dean ran a hand along the curve of Castiel’s butt and held his hand up to show Castiel the glimmering, goopy mess of lubricant and come that dribbled down his inner leg.

_ It feels like a problem. _

“What a mess,” Castiel sighed.

_ Once again, I’m a mess. _

“Come on, you sexy disaster - bath time!”

_...but I might as well try to play the field, because at least I’m not so far gone that I don’t recognize that Dean and I can never be...can never be what, exactly? _

“Yes, Dean…”

_ Does it matter? I want Dean and I to be everything. _

_ And it can never be. We can never be. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More today or tomorrow (I mean it this time, promise, well, unless I sleep like shit again...)
> 
> (don't let this one get you down, he's gonna get his head out of his ass pretty quick...)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up...
> 
> Unedited, again. There's just not time for me to do Kinktober AND edit.

Setting his fork down on the scraped-clean dessert plate, Balthazar leaned back in his chair with a content grin and a hand patting his belly. 

“That was excellent,” Balthazar said, smacking his lips. “Perfect choice, Cassie.” Castiel watched him, his hands wrapped around his cup of decaf, lost in thought and trying to seem like he wasn’t. “Going forward, I’m always leaving the dessert choice to you.” 

“Our tolerance for sweetness does seem to be compatible,” Castiel replied. It had taken Castiel months of fruitless messaging back and forth before he found anyone on OKCupid that struck him as worth even a first date. Now that he’d finally found someone, he should be happy, especially since by every measure he and Balthazar had enjoyed a fantastic date. Seriously, it was one of the best night’s out Castiel had ever shared with a new acquaintance. 

And yet...he hadn’t even bothered correcting Balthazar’s random choice of  _ Cassie  _ as a nickname.

There was a twinkle in Balthazar’s eyes as he sat up again, intent as he smiled at Castiel. 

And yet...there wasn’t a single spark when Castiel looked at him.

“I think we’re compatible, too!” said Balthazar brightly.  _ Wait, did I say that? _ “And I’m very glad to hear you say so.”  _ I mean...he  _ is  _ my type. _ “Perhaps this is me putting my horse before my cart, but screw it.”  _ He’s a very attractive man. _ “Want to come back to my place tonight?”  _ If I’d met him a year ago, I’d be incredibly excited right now. _ “We could hang out, or let it all hang out, or whatever you’re comfortable.”  _ Or rather, I’d have been incredibly excited for about 5 seconds before raw panic set in, fearing how he’d react to my issues. _

“Oh.”

_ Now, I’m not at all worried about those issues...if I wanted to have sex with him, I can’t think of a single inhibition that would stop me.  _

“...oh.” Balthazar let out a lusty sigh and swooned melodramatically back in his chair. “Well...if you’re not ready...that’s fine, too. Can I ask for a second date at least?”

_ But I don’t want to have sex with him, or anyone. _

“I think…” Lowering his eyes, Castiel stared into the rippling surface of his half-drunk coffee and shook his head. “...we probably shouldn’t, no.”

_ Dean is back home, and he’s agreed that I’m ready for size 3 - below average!  _

“Shit,” muttered Balthazar. “And here I thought things were going well. But I shoulda trusted my instincts.”

_ I’m finally up for taking a semi-normal sized penis, whether it be Dean’s attachment or whatever is in Balthazar’s pants, or… _

“Instincts?”

_...or… _

“The ones that told me that as excellent as you seem, you also seem distracted. There’s already someone, isn’t there?” Balthazar paused, but Castiel had no idea what he was waiting for. He looked up, met Balthazar’s eyes, and saw sympathy and disappointment in his expression. “You could have just told me, instead of stringing me along for an entire date.” 

_...or no one, because there’s only one person I want to have sex with, one person I want to be with, one person I want to date. _

“I’m sorry,” Castiel mumbled, looking away. Balthazar’s tone was more teasing than disgruntled, but it was still an earned jab. Castiel  _ did  _ have feelings for someone else,  _ knew  _ that he did, but he’d spent over a month convincing himself that the affection he nurtured for Dean was separate from that which he’d feel when faced with the exciting prospect of a new relationship.

Balthazar was pretty great, and the prospect of a new relationship with him  _ should  _ have been exciting, but instead it felt like a waste of time.

“Naw, don’t be,” Balthazar laughed. “Still had a great night, and that dessert was still phenomenal. What’s his name?”

Castiel didn’t want a new relationship. 

“Dean.” Castiel didn’t even consider not saying Dean’s name until it had already left his mouth.

_ Because I’m exceptionally happy with the one I have. _

“I hope this Dean fellow knows how lucky he is,” Balthazar said.

“He…”  _ How do I answer that?  _ “...um…”  _ I know what Dean thinks of me, because he’s told me.  _ “...I…”  _ But, even considering what he’s told me about his capacity for free will, can I truly believe him capable of independent judgement as regards his feelings toward me?  _ “It’s complicated.”  _ Can I truly deny the reality of his autonomy, when I see it demonstrated daily? _

“Hence why you wanted to go on a date with someone else,” said Balthazar.

_ Dean is a person, almost as fully realized as a human. _

Castiel nodded. “I’m sorry. I truly have had a nice evening. In other circumstances…” He shrugged.

_ And when I think  _ almost  _ as fully realized...I suspect that proviso says more about my perception of him than about his reality. _

“Well, then, at least I’ve made a friend out of this.”

_ Whatever our relationship is, tonight has made one thing clear: dating other people is a waste of time. _

“I am as well,” Castiel said with a smile. “And if you’d like to get coffee sometime, I’d still be happy to help pick a dessert to both of our taste.”

“Perhaps you and Dean can host a movie night sometime - I’ll bring the wine.”

“That sounds splendid. Thank you, Balthazar - for tonight, and for understanding, and for...everything, really.”

“I’ll accept that. I  _ am  _ pretty awesome. You’re missing out. And if I may venture…”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know you well, so forgive me if this is off the mark...but you say it’s complicated?” Balthazar paused until Castiel slowly nodded. “Uncomplicate it. It’s in your power to do so, I suspect.”

“Why would you say…”

Balthazar shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You’re...um...how can I say this kindly? You’re contained, Cassie. I’ve seen you going around and around in your head about this all evening. Have you considered maybe...talking to him? ‘Cause I suspect if you’d done so you could have saved all three of us a lot of bother.”

“From ‘made a friend’ to ‘a lot of bother’ in the space of two minutes...that’s a new record, even for me,” said Castiel dryly.

Balthazar laughed. “I like you, Cassie. Truly, I do. Text me sometime soon, we’ll get that coffee you offered me. But for now...get home to your boy. He’s waiting for you.”

“How would you kn--?”

“Does that mean he’s not?” Balthazar smiled smugly.

“...I’ll just...see myself out,” muttered Castiel, rising and pulling on his trenchcoat as Balthazar laughed again. They walked out of the restaurant side by side, said their final farewells, and Castiel started the lonely walk home, the collar of his trenchcoat hitched up to protect his neck from a biting wind.

Balthazar was right - Dean  _ was  _ waiting for him, but only because Dean knew Castiel was anxious about the date and had decided to stay home to meet him after instead of going out and enjoying an evening about the town by himself.

But Balthazar was wrong - Castiel probably  _ should  _ talk to him, but he wasn’t ready, not yet. Because it stung that Dean didn’t care that Castiel was dating someone else, and that was absurd considering that Castiel’s stated goal upon commencing his relationship with Dean had been to find a long-term human partner. Castiel had to sort through the contradictions in his own head and figure out what he actually wanted - and what he was actually  _ comfortable  _ wanting - before he could talk to Dean about it. Otherwise, he’d end up replicating the same mistakes he’d made with Balthazar that evening. He’d truly thought himself ready to try dating again, and he had been, after a fashion, and he hadn’t been, not really, and he’d hurt Balthazar as a result. Hurting Balthazar was unfortunate, but considering how little acquainted they were, not a big deal.

Hurting Dean would be unconscionable, horrible, beyond unacceptable. If Dean ended up feeling the need to reset part of his memory as a result of Castiel’s behavior? Merely considering it was nauseating.

And that he reacted? Probably indicated that he was more sure of his feelings than he thought he was.

But he was also still very snarled up in the  _ but he’s not human and I own him  _ part of pushing for further intimacy.

And he could not longer tell if that was something he  _ should  _ be snarled up about, and that troubled him too.

He wasn’t ready to date other people, and suspected he might never be.

He wasn’t ready to pick apart how he felt, in part because he was starting to recognize how profound those feelings truly were.

He wasn’t ready to speak to Dean, because all he could imagine was all the ways such a conversation could go wrong.

He  _ was  _ ready for that size 3 anal dilator, though...and he walked faster, confident that if nothing else, Dean would  _ easily  _ be able to fuck him thoughtless.

_ And, like everything else I do with Dean, it’ll be so so good… _

_...and sooner or later...sooner, definitely sooner...I’m going to have to figure out what that means. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...gonna try for at least one more chapter today, maybe two.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, unedited.

Slumping back in the comfortable lounge chair in Dr. Moseley’s office, Castiel peered at the ceiling until the dull ache behind his eyes prompted him to raise a hand and massage his forehead.

“Take your time,” Dr. Moseley suggested, uncharacteristically gentle and patient. Not that she wasn’t a nice woman, but  _ nice  _ wasn’t the primary feature Castiel had sought in his therapist. He needed someone tough, who’d listen to his waffling and uncertainty and then put their foot down. He needed someone who’d tell him he was being a fool, and that he knew which of the possibilities in his head was most realistic, most credible, most reliable, and he should trust himself and listen to that voice instead of giving credence to every anxiety-driven worst-case-scenario that popped into his head.

Of course, she couldn’t do that when Castiel didn’t say anything.

His appointment had started ten minutes ago, and he’d been silent since he sat down. Clearly, he was already taking plenty of his time, and hers too.

_ Not that she’d mind that, right? She gets paid for the full hour regardless of how long I dither _ , his anxiety helpfully suggested, but he ignored it. Perfect example of a time to tell the nastier parts of his mind to stuff it. Yes, she got paid regardless, but she also clearly enjoyed her job, and would presumably rather be doing it than watching Castiel wrestle with his inability to get to the damn point.

_ So...start. _

_ Say something. _

_ This is your cue. _

_ Open your fucking mouth, Castiel. _

“There’s something I want to talk about,” he managed finally.

“There  _ is _ ?” The mock surprise in her voice startled him enough that he lowered his hand and actually looked at her, but her smile was kind and genuine, and he chuckled ruefully.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been working toward this for weeks...months, really...since my date with Balthazar?” He paused until she acknowledged with a nod that she remembered and didn’t need him to refresh her on that. “And I told myself - it had to be today. I thought I was ready, but…” He sighed.

_Why would I ever be ready, when not being ready is so much easier?_ _No. Not easier. Not being ready is driving me insane. But not being ready is much_ safer _. No risk if I just...never say anything._

“Is this about Dean?” she asked.

A surge of anger, or maybe frustration, rocked through Castiel, surprising him. Of course she knew. How could she  _ not  _ know? Understanding people was her job, and Castiel spoke about Dean, because how could he tell his doctor about his week and  _ not  _ talk about Dean? He’d assumed she knew - had been  _ hoping  _ she did, because if Castiel was obvious enough that others could tell - if he was obvious enough that even Balthazar had been able to tell during that first date - then how could she not know? It was validating to have others recognize in him what he saw in himself, and yet now he felt angry...why? 

_ Am I angry at her, because she knew and never made my life easier by breaking the ice? But that’s not her job - I lead, she follows and helps. I’ve known that was how this would work since our first appointment. _

_ So it’s myself I’m angry with. For being this obvious. For being this silent. For failing to contain myself this badly. _

_ God, does Dean know? _

Suddenly exhausted, tired,  _ done _ , Castiel nodded.

“What about him, exactly?” 

“I think…” Castiel took a deep breath, blinked slowly, and let the breath out. “I think I’m in love with him.”

“Well ain’t that sweet as sugar,” Dr. Moseley replied. She sounded like she meant every word, in the nicest possible way, and Castiel blinked his surprise at her. “What?”

“...you’re happy for me?” he asked.

“Of course I am! Castiel, you clearly adore him, and that you’re ready to admit that to yourself and to me - that’s something! Did you think I wouldn’t be pleased?”

“But he’s an android!”

“And?”

“And I’m his owner!”

“And?”

“And I shouldn’t feel this way!”

“Why not? You think you’re the first human to fall in love with a bot?” Dr. Moseley laughed. “Back in the day, people used treat their Roomba vacuums like pets, and those didn’t even have an AI. People fall in love with androids all the time.”

“Why won’t you get it?” he demanded, exasperated. “Even if I  _ should  _ feel this way...I mean, I  _ do _ , so I guess  _ should  _ doesn’t enter into it...what about him?”

“What about him?” she replied with a show of blinked ignorance.

“He’s an android!”

“Ah, so we’re cycling back to point one again. Interesting.”

“It’s not  _ interesting _ . It’s...it’s…” Spluttering, Castiel tried to find the one, concise word that would express the jumble in his head - the frustration, the worry, the self-denial, the fear. “It’s  _ fucked _ .”

Dr. Moseley burst into a startled laugh, shoulders shaking. “Oh, Cas. I know he’s an android, and since I don’t get why that’s an issue, why don’t you tell me why  _ you  _ think it’s an issue?”

“You...think it’s not?” he blinked in amazement. Even as he’d wrestled with his own perceptions, grown more secure in his understanding of Dean’s autonomy, and accepted his own feelings enough to consider admitting them, if only to his therapist, it had never once dawned on him that anyone would see his infatuation as anything other than completely inappropriate. She half-shrugged and gestured him invitation to answer the question she’d posed. “What if he’s only feeling what he’s programmed to feel?”

“You say that like the brain ain’t one huge jumbled up computer, and one way less efficiently wired than an android’s is.”

“What if I’m his owner? Doesn’t that make it, like...slavery? And muck up consent?”

“You’re gonna talk to  _ me  _ about slavery?” she asked archly. 

“No - I’m sorry - I meant--”

“There  _ are  _ parallels,” she allowed, expression softening. “But Dean is smarter than a human, stronger than a human, faster than a human, better in most essential capacities...do you really think anything would induce him to stay, if he didn’t want to?”

Castiel shook his head. Of course Dean wouldn’t. Castiel knew that. Dean knew that. They’d talked about it, ages ago and multiple times since. Dean was right where he wanted to be. Dean was right were Castiel wanted him to be. Yet still, Castiel worried, and fretted, and delayed, and hesitated.

And he’d spent months telling himself he didn’t know why he couldn’t be more forward.

He knew exactly why he couldn’t be more forward.

But saying it aloud would make it real...saying anything aloud, even as much as he’d said to Dr. Moseley during this appointment, made everything so  _ real _ . 

“What if he doesn’t love me?” Castiel whispered.

“Isn’t that the risk in any relationship?” countered Dr. Moseley, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Holy hell.

It  _ was  _ the most obvious thing in the world.

And it had never even crossed Castiel’s mind.

Stunned, he sat in his lounge chair and stared.

“Does he spend time with you?” she nudged.

Castiel nodded. “Whenever I’m not at work, he’s with me.”

“Because you ordered him to?”

“Dean doesn’t obey orders, that’s one the core principals of his personality’s coding.”

“So he wants to spend time with you?”

“I guess so.”

“He does,” she insisted.

“...yes. He must.”

“And does he have sex with you?” she asked.

“I mean. Yeah.”

“So he’s attracted to you?”

“As far as I can tell, he’s attracted to everyone.”

“Cas, are you trying to imply that  _ everyone  _ doesn’t include  _ you _ ?”

“Of course not! But I’m not special or anything, in his eyes, not like that.”

“Really? Is he having sex with everyone, then?”

“I don’t think so?” Castiel sucked at his lips. “He’s usually out when I’m at work.” He hated thinking about Dean with other people, and he hated that he hated it, since it was observed. “I don’t usually ask what he’s been doing, and he only sometimes tells me.” Castiel didn’t own him - except for the ways in which he did - and they’d never discussed exclusivity. “He could be.” Dean had been shockingly supportive when Castiel had announced he would be dating again...and equally supportive when Castiel had subsequently announced that he wouldn’t be dating again after all. “It’d be his right to.”

“Why don’t you ask him about his day?”

_ Because I’m afraid of what he’ll tell me - that he’s met other people and had a great time and that coming home to me is the boringest part of his cycle and and and… _

_...but I can’t say that… _

_...and that’s why I have to say that. _

“What if he said he was happier without me?” Castiel mumbled.

“Has he said that?” she asked. Castiel shook his head. “Has he said he doesn’t like you?” Castiel shook his head. “Has he said he doesn’t want to spend time with you?” Castiel shook his head. “Do you have even a single reason to think that Dean doesn’t care for you?”

Mortified, Castiel shook his head.

“Cas, this all sounds like a  _ you  _ problem, not a  _ him  _ problem. From what you’re telling me, you’ve got a man you’ve been living with for months, who could leave any time he wants, who can come and go as he pleases, and yet who chooses to be there every evening when you get home, and every morning when you wake up. He’s going out of his way to spend every possible minute with you, and you’re worried that he likes being with others more than he likes being with you.”

“I know it’s ridiculous,” muttered Castiel. “And it sounds even more so when you put it like that.”

“Talk to him, Cas,” she urged.

“But what if he doesn’t want with me what I want with him?”

“What if he  _ does  _ want with you what you want with him?”

_ That’d be amazing. _

Dr. Moseley’s gentle laugh caught his attention; confused, he looked up and she shook her head slightly and smiled. “You should see the way your face just lit up. Listen - I know you, and I know you complicate things, but trust me, this is simple. You love him. And you’ve got every reason to think he cares about you, in whatever capacity his programming allows. So...talk to him. Unless you’re so afraid of being happy for maybe ten whole minutes before you get anxious again that you won’t even take the chance…”

“Uncalled for,” Castiel said reproachfully.

“Am I wrong?” she asked.

“No,” he sighed. “As usual, you’ve understood only too well, and cut to the heart of the problem. Thank you, Doctor.”

“I’m glad I can help,” she replied. “Now, our time’s up, and you’ve got someone waiting for you who deserves to have you ask him how his day was. Good luck, Cas. I’ll see you next week.”

_ He  _ is  _ waiting for me. _

Murmuring his goodbyes, Castiel rose from the chair, and headed out of her office, nodding familiar greeting to the patient who always came in after him.

_ And I  _ do  _ want to know how his day went. _

He put on his coat.

_ And it  _ is  _ absurd that I’m so afraid of his reactions, when I know I’m the one he always comes back to. _

He headed out of the building.

_ I’ve been a fool, but no more.  _

He walked toward his house.

_ Today’s the day...as it was with Dr. Moseley...no more waiting, no more beating around the bush, not more internal debate and external silence...today, I’m talking to him. _

Dean was waiting for him…

_ Hopefully, he’ll be as patient as Dr. Mosely was when I first have to stare at the ceiling for ten minutes. _

...and Castiel couldn’t  _ wait  _ to see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering why I've spent a couple chapters having Cas talk ABOUT Dean instead of WITH Dean...truth is, Dean in this 'verse has his head on about as properly as any Dean I've ever written. He knows who he is and he knows what he wants. If Cas wasn't an anxious mess and had simply spoken *TO* him, they'd have had no issue (see also, the chapter about consent) but as I suggest in this chapter - Cas knows that Dean will tell him the truth straight up, and it's his fear of that that prevents him from approaching Dean sooner, and instead he goes around in his head.
> 
> (also I know this isn't all necessarily therapy best practices but I also know...my best therapist, once they got to know me, treated me a lot like this, and it did me a lot of good, so I'm rolling with it...)
> 
> I'm out of brain and time for more today, so I'll try to finish up tomorrow. I might drop it to seven chapters, as an FYI, I'm leaning toward nixing one of the things in my outline.
> 
> Eta on 10/27: today is stupid busy I don't know what I was thinking when I said yesterday I'd be able to finish today. I have like zero writing time.. But I'll definitely be able to finish tomorrow. Sorry about that!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, gonna do my damnedest to finish this today...
> 
> Oops, this got long.
> 
> Unedited.

The hardest part of returning home to find Dean lounging on the couch was maintaining the enthusiasm for disclosure that Castiel had discovered while he was talking with Dr. Moseley. It was one thing to announce with gusto that he’d face his fears and speak with Dean about his feelings. It was quite another to walk in the door and be greeted by a pleased Dean hoping to his feet, smiling broadly, looking so human that Castiel had to remind himself that Dean wasn’t, and had never been, a real man.

_ Oh, really? In what way has he not been a real man? In what way isn’t he human? He’s not made of meat but that doesn’t mean much. At the risk of drawing a parallel that some of my friends might consider transphobic...I don’t judge someone’s gender by what they’ve got in their pants, but rather by who they tell me they are and how they behave, so why should I judge Dean by what’s under his skin, instead of by the person he’s demonstrated himself to be? _

“Hey, Cas!” said Dean brightly. “Good day?”

He was so benignly unaware of the nonsense spiralling in Castiel’s head.

And somehow, that made that nonsense dissipate and reform into a single simple, straight line that Castiel could follow to its logical conclusion and say, “It’s been fine, but I’m hoping it’s about to get better. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“We goin’ up to size 4?” Dean asked, eagerness flushing his cheeks a delicate, lovely pink.

_ I know he’s capable of looking sad, or disinterested, or bored. I know he’s capable of disagreeing with me, overriding me, ignoring me. I know he doesn’t always agree with me or feel as I do on every topic. Yet I convinced myself he could look that happy and feel nothing for me. _

_ What a fool I’ve been. _

“That does sound excellent,” allowed Castiel. “But no, that wasn’t what I had in mind. I can’t think of any delicate segue into the matter so I’ll cut to the chase - what do you think of me?”

Dean blinked. “That’s, uh. Kinda broad? Care to be more specific?”

“Not yet,” said Castiel, shaking his head. “How about you just tell me whatever sprang to mind when I asked? Whatever you’re comfortable sharing.”

“Okay.” Dean whooshed out a breath and threw himself into a sprawl on the couch, one arm over the back of it, one leg tucked up under the other. “What do I think of you. Well, I think this conversation is off to a fucking bizarre start, how’s that?” Chuckling, Castiel eyed the spot next to the couch and, despite the tempting invitation obvious in Dean’s body language - there was a perfect Castiel-shaped spot beside him - Castiel instead opted for the armchair. Dean quirked an eyebrow at him, then sighed. “Your taste in music sucks. Your cooking smells pretty good, but I’m not high-end enough to eat it, and I think about that stupidly often cause I  _ want  _ to try it. You’re fun to be around, and it’s awesome that you dig Dr. Sexy, and I actually like all those subtitled movies I always bitch and moan about - helps that I downloaded a few language databases so I don’t have to try to read the subs anymore, I just understand the original. Makes things fucktons easier.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” murmured Castiel.

“You didn’t ask,” Dean shrugged. “And it’s still not perfect, it’s not like I get cultural nuance and sometimes idioms go about a thousand miles over my head. But man, that translation of Wings of Desire we watched? Oof, what a mess.”

“Good to know.” Leaning back, Castiel crossed one leg over the other, forced his hands to his sides, tried to figure out a position to sit in that didn’t make him feel like an ungainly idiot. “I did think it seemed...wonky...at times.” Everything Dean said was fascinating, and none of it was even close to what Castiel had in mind. 

“Do me next, do me next!” Dean grinned, as if he couldn’t sense the tension...no, that was unkind. Castiel had known Dean long enough to know he had a pretty good emotional radar. If Dean was acting goofy in the face of Castiel’s obvious discomfort, it wasn’t that he didn’t recognize that something was amiss, it was that he was trying to put Castiel at ease, divert the topic, maybe even channel his own nerves into a show of disregard.

_...which is so, so human of him. _

“Our music taste is clearly incompatible,” replied Castiel slowly, gathering himself, focusing on what he needed to say. “But discussing it wasn’t what I had in mind at this time. Dean, I think you’re…”  _ Just go for it. What’s the worst that happens?  _ “I think you’re great, Dean. Hardworking, kind, dedicated, caring--”

“Oh, God. Stop.”

_ That. _

“--honest...okay, if you’d prefer I stop, I will.”  _ No, that’s not the worst. He could have yelled at me, or reset on the spot, or left, or any of a dozen far worse reactions.  _ “I’ll not force my perceptions on you, any more than I’d force my affections on you.”  _ But still, it stings to be shut down when I’ve hardly started, even if I suspect that it’s because my disclosures of his positive features make him uncomfortable.  _ “But I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and talking to Dr. Moseley, and decided it was important I say  _ something _ .”

“Yeah, well. Um. I appreciate it, Cas,” Dean gave him a half smile that, coming from anyone else, Castiel would have said was  _ shy _ . On Dean’s gorgeous face, it read more coy, but his underlying discomfort still remained. “You. You’re pretty great, you know? I’m a factory reset model, which should mean I don’t remember jack-squat from before waking up in your apartment, but there are bits and pieces...like, sometimes I’ll think of something and it’ll stir up this super visceral reaction in my gut and I’ll start to get angry or hurt and then realize the image don’t connect to anything in my life - in our lives. I don’t know what happened before, but I know it wasn’t good. And since I’ve been here...things have been good. You’ve been good. Still never reset. ‘Cause I want to remember everything about you. And now you’re telling me, you think I’m awesome...and did you say you’ve got  _ affections _ for me?”

“I did.” Castiel was shocked by how clearly and confidently he owned what he’d barely been able to force himself to say moments before.  _ Just. Go. For. It _ . “I love you, Dean.”

“You.” Dean sat with his mouth hanging open, and Castiel waited for him to continue, but he said nothing else. He was so still, not even blinking, that a frightened thought suggested he’d reset on the spot, but then Dean shook himself and pointed at himself. “ _ Me _ ?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“What about your date with Balthazar?” asked Dean.

“That was two months ago, and was date,  _ singular _ , as you obviously are aware. What about that suggests to you that I’ve pursued a relationship?”

“Nothing,” Dean said weakly. He seemed so affected; Castiel had no idea what his reaction signified. “Figured...while you were at work or something...still using OKCupid...I don’t even fucking know. You hadn’t brought it up, so I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I didn’t bring it up because there was nothing to talk about, or to bring up,” Castiel corrected. “There’s been no one but you since Balthazar. Since long before that, honestly, but I refused to recognize the truth until that night.”

“And the truth is...that you love me?” Dean said. Castiel nodded. “Even though I’m an android?” Castiel nodded again. “Fuck.”

Dean sagged into the couch, dropping his head back and closing his eyes, and Castiel forced himself to calmness and struggled to interpret the inflection of Dean’s voice. Reading the emotions of others had never been Castiel’s strong suit, and with only a single word to work with, he could discern little. Dean sounded...not happy, certainly. If he were excited, he’d be smiling, and he’d have breathed the swear word out like an  _ oh  _ of satisfaction, the same way he did when he finally came after an hour of driving Castiel to distraction with his unrelenting thrusts. He didn’t sound sad either, though...there was a hint of forlornness, but not of disappointment. He didn’t sound confused, but he also didn’t sound confident. He didn’t sound angry, nor did he sound pleased. He wasn’t disgusted...afraid...worried...resigned...frightened...anxious...frustrated...affronted…

Castiel could have filled a dictionary with words that  _ didn’t  _ describe how Dean sounded.

He couldn’t figure out a single word to describe how he  _ did  _ sound, nor was he sure what emotions were even left, with all the ones he’d eliminated.

_ Maybe no emotion describes it, because he has no actual emotions. He is an android, after all. His feelings are only so many algorithms, processed through his ever-expanding personality profile, emoted by servos and gears firing in sequence. _

_ Yeah? And? My emotions are merely so many neurochemicals releasing in sequence, interpretation shaded by the memories stored in my neurons, and demonstrated by muscles and bones shifting in sequence. _

_ We’re far more the same than we are different. _

_ And right now we’re both sitting here, silent...him staring at the ceiling...me staring at him...as the moment stretches out… _

“I ain’t...I ain’t like you…” muttered Dean finally.

_ Because you’re not human? _

“In what way?” Castiel asked, gentle, patient. He still felt so at peace that it was surreal, but he wouldn’t waste energy doubting his serenity. He felt how he felt, about Dean, about their relationship, about the world, and whatever Dean said wouldn’t change that.

“The software developers who design our personalities, they try to keep things simple, but they also try to give us room to grow,” Dean explained. “Still, if I want any fucking nuance in my reactions, I really gotta step back and think for a few minutes. I don’t just know how I feel. Instead, it’s like...when I’m in the moment, I’ll get a burst of data that screams single concepts like  _ happy _ or  _ sad  _ or  _ bad  _ or  _ good _ . So like...you play Alanis Morisette and the parts of my functioning in active RAM storage scream  _ no, bad, stop _ and that’s all I get right away, it’s not ‘til I take a little time after the fact and scan through some resources on music theory and play through umpteen other albums on high speed that I can really grok the depth of her songs.”

“...you went to that much trouble?” said Castiel. “You said my music sucks.”

“Does,” muttered Dean, lips pouty, eyes aimed firmly at the window behind Castiel. “But you like it, and I wanna know why, because I wanna get you. In the  _ understand  _ you sense, I mean, but also...like, I opened my eyes in this house, and I saw you, and every 0 and 1 spelled out  _ good, amazing, perfect _ . And it’s not just cause you’re the first person I saw. I’m a sex bot, I don’t imprint like a baby duck or some shit.”

“I heard that was a myth.”

“Don’t believe everything you read on the internet...unless you’re reading one of the eighty four articles I just scanned that guarantee that ducklings do, in fact, imprint on the first large moving object they see after birth. But, as I said, I ain’t a duck. And I don’t react that way to everyone. I’ve met scads of people since you activated me, and you’re the only one that was that  _ visceral _ . Still, it ain’t that simple, ‘cause just like with Alanis, with time to analyze, my feelings change.”

Dean sat up, abruptly present, and focused his intense, green-eyed stare on Castiel. He was breathtaking, gorgeous, and Castiel’s breath caught. 

But he didn’t say anything.

“That doesn’t sound different,” Castiel offered as the silence stretched out. “It sounds a lot like how we work. When I meet someone, I usually get a knee-jerk reaction - that they’re trustworthy, friendly, selfish, unpleasant - and then experience with that person modifies my feelings. Sometimes, when I get to know them, that initial assessment is validated, and other times it’s invalidated, but regardless I do always go through a similar process - meet someone, react, gather more data, amend the reaction, continually, for as long as I know them.”

“Exactly,” said Dean. And still didn’t say more. The urge to fill the silence was strong, because based on the  _ extensive  _ data that Castiel had gathered on Dean over the months he’d known him, Castiel could draw multiple strong, heartening conclusions. Still, he didn’t want to speak over Dean, or speak for Dean, and assumption would only get him so far.

He wanted to gush more about how great Dean was...but he didn’t.

He wanted to ask Dean to explain himself...but he didn’t.

“Tell me only what you want to share,” Castiel said. It would hurt to be left with ambiguity...but was there really ambiguity?

Of course there wasn’t.

Dr. Moseley had been so right - and, more important,  _ Castiel _ had been so right. Anxieties aside, of course he knew what Dean thought of him. Dean acted on those thoughts and feelings every single day, and that his opinion of Castiel was high as the skies was obvious.

Castiel knew it.

Dean must also know it. Which meant that, if Dean didn’t want to say more, he must have a reason, and Castiel could accept that...though it was certainly harder, with Dean still staring at him intently, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together, his expression troubled.

“It ain’t that I don’t want to share,” said Dean, frowning. “But it’s fucking complicated. I’m not capable of  _ love _ , I don’t think - not in the sense you mean. I’m pre-programmed with a handful of things that are ‘things Dean loves’ and that category is way less flexible than some of my others. Like. Zep is there, for example. But every GFA-6854 unit running the Dean personality profile would love basically the same things. Classic cars. Mullet rock. Pool. That kinda thing. It’s...it’s like a reserved list. I can’t add to it. But that also means that other things I dig, my reaction ends up fucktons more complex, because I  _ can’t _ love them. That Wings of Desire movie? I thought it was cool as fuck, but I don’t  _ love  _ it. Instead, it’s like...like, I can’t give you a reason that I love Zep. I just  _ do _ , but with that movie? I could list twenty reasons I thought it was awesome. Do you get what I’m saying?”

Warmth blooming in his chest, Castiel nodded. “I think I do, but I’d appreciate if you could be more explicit in ‘connecting the dots,’ if you’re comfortable doing so. I’m afraid I’ll take my understanding of your intentions for granted and only discover long after the fact that I’ve misinterpreted.”

“Yeah, that’s fair. You, uh. You said you loved me, Cas.” Where before, Dean’s tone had been unreadable, now it was earnest, sincere, achingly vulnerable, and the warm feeling inside Castiel burgeoned. “But I can’t love you. I literally  _ can’t _ . But, like the movie...no, that’s a bad parallel, cause I can list twenty things I thought were cool about the movie, but if I started listing the things about you that I think are awesome, we’d be here all fucking night and I still wouldn’t be done.”

_ And that’s it.  _ “Wow,” Castiel breathed.  _ That’s love.  _ “Are you sure about that? When I asked you earlier what you thought of me, you stalled after four items.” He chuckled, to make it clear he was joking, but Dean looked askance and grimaced.

_ Do I explain that to him? _

“Didn’t wanna seem obsessive,” Dean muttered. “I remember literally every second of our time together, complete with video and auditory recall. My harddrives are getting full, even though it’s only been a bit of time…” Dean closed his eyes slowly, opened them again, and said, “Naw - I gotta try to be more honest, now if no other time. It’s been 194 days, 2 hours, 10 minutes, 8 seconds. Sooner or later, I’m gonna have to go through my save data and start picking and choosing what to keep and what to chuck, and I’m dreading it, cause I don’t want to lose a single thing. And, sure, I’m a computer, and you know I’m a computer, but our programming includes settings so we know how much detail normal fuckos give so that we don’t come across as super duper weird. Or at least mine does, since I’m programmed to present as neuro-typical, it gets more complicated for other models, but that’s besides the point, and sorry for the random tangential interjection, this shit is hard to talk about because I’m having to actively shut down all my failsafes that say,  _ don’t talk about being a robot, don’t go into the nitty-gritty of how I work, don’t sound like a program _ . This shit is crazy hard for me.”

_ Do I try to tell him - everything you’re describing, that’s how love actually works? _

“I appreciate you going to the trouble.”

_ Do I try to explain to him - no one loves a real person the same way they love their favorite band? _

“You’re worth it,” breathed Dean, instantly, unhesitatingly. “Cas...you’re fuckin’ incredible, and if I haven’t made it clear I think so, I’m gonna have to tinker with my settings, ‘cause that’s a serious fucking problem.”

_ Do I try to make it clear - what he’s describing is the same as how I feel, we simply use different terminology? _

“No, you did,” Castiel said. “I thought you...I  _ knew  _ you...I mean, I worried, a lot, because that’s something I do, but underneath the concern, when I examined events as objectively as I could, it was clear that you were...invested.”

_...no, I don’t think I do. _

“‘Invested?’” Dean laughed. “What am I, a 401k?”

_ I’m no longer worried. _

“Definitely not, though I did drain mine to afford you,” deadpanned Castiel. Dean laughed harder. “Thank you for disclosing this much to me Dean. It means more to you than I can say.”

_ He’s told me plenty. _

“Sorry about the...ya know...declarations thing...I could say it - if you really want, but you’d know I don’t mean it, so what’s the point?” Dean shrugged uncomfortable.

_ I know exactly how he feels...and I know exactly how I feel. _

“There’s no need,” said Castiel. “I’ve perfectly comprehended what you’re trying to tell me.”

_ So why belabor the obvious? _

“And…?” Dean sounded  _ nervous _ . How adorable.

_ I can’t believe I let this trouble me for so long, when - as Dr. Moseley said - it’s actually been so simple all along. _

“And I love you, Dean,” Castiel said with a serene smile. “When we’re not together, I think about you - that I’d like to show you something I’m seeing, or hear your opinion on a topic I’m engaged with, or find out if you react similarly to how I do to whatever I’m perceiving. When we are together, I’m content, and while not every moment has been perfection, even the ones that have been problematic or irritating, overcoming whatever issue has arisen is always my priority. You are splendid, and it took a single date with someone else to convince me...I neither needed nor wanted anyone but you.” Frowning, Castiel tried to figure out what else to say. The thought felt incomplete, but no other words sprang to mind. He shook his head to see if he could knock anything loose, and all that came to him was… “That’s what I want.  _ You’re _ what I want. What do you want, Dean?”

“To be yours,” whispered Dean. “And I get all the creepy connotations of that, given the whole sex bot, owner thing, but it’s true. If I could upchuck I swear I’d need to run to the bathroom every time I try to imagine anyone owning me but you. I don’t wanna be with anyone else. I don’t want to be anyone else’s. Cause I’m  _ yours _ .”

_ Oh. _

_ Wow. _

_ I...kinda think I should be panicking right now, because the implications of that are...so much...yet...I’m fine.  _

_ Because I know what he means. And...and… _

“I’m yours, too,” Castiel said. Dean’s troubled expression melted into joy, eyes wide, mouth agape, lips curled up with pleasure. “Is that such a surprise?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” said Dean with a fervent nod. “It wasn’t that long ago you were all - date a real person! Find a relationship! Train your ass for a flesh dick! And now…”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel replied. “I had a lot to figure out.”

“Don’t apologize,” Dean said, shaking his head. “It was fine with me. Like, did I wish you’d stay with me? Yeah. But you still came home to me every night, and spent the weekend with me, and all that jazz, so I figured...I’d ride this as long as I could, and then if it hurt after I could always wipe my hard drive.”

“So to be clear...it was fine with you, except for all the ways it wasn’t fine with you, culminating in your acceptance of a worse case scenario where you would choose to forget my existence rather than come to terms with my no longer utilizing you or sharing your company?”

“When you put it that…” grumbled Dean.

“ _ You  _ put it that way,” said Castiel, and got a half-shrug in return. “I’m glad it’s not come to that. And I’ll own, I’m intrigued...when you said  _ you’d ride this as long as you could _ ...what does that mean?”

Dean’s expression lightened again and he waggled an eyebrow at Castiel. “Depends...when you said  _ come to that _ , what’d  _ you  _ mean?”

“I...don’t think that sex pun works as well mine did…” Castiel said skeptically. “Seems like a stretch.”

“Fuck you, it works great!” exclaimed Dean. “And I’ll stretch whatever you’d like, for as long as you’d like, if you know what I mean.”

“Ah yes, much better,” replied Castiel. “And yes, I  _ am  _ hoping very much that you’ll ‘fuck me.’ Preferably for ‘as long as you can,’ and both of us will get to ‘come to that,’ and I think I’m ready for a bit more ‘stretch.’ What do you think? Good talk?”

“I think…” Dean shook his head and looked up with mischief in his expression and light glimmering in his gorgeous eyes. “I think I am so fucking done sharing and caring, and that I am ready to fuck your brains right here if you keep using all those air quotes. I don’t know how the fuck that’s sexy but…”

“...you think I’m sexy?”

“Nope - done talking - get on my dick, Cas. Now.”

“Don’t you need to swap up a size?”

“Double nope - already did earlier. Had an inkling…”

_...I had an inkling, too.  _

“Of what?”

_ That today was the day. _

“No. More. Talk. Ride me. Now.”

_ That I was ready to be honest with myself, and Dr. Moseley, and him. _

“Yes, Dean…”

_ And now?  _

_ I’m so glad he’s mine. _

_ And I’m so, so glad I’m his. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go (I did drop the final chapter count). And it's basically just pure smut. So...hopefully it won't take me too long cause I do have a few other things that I gotta do and this 6th chapter got way longer than I meant it to be.
> 
> eta...after doing the thing I had to do I feel like I've been hit by a bus and so it's probably gonna be another day, fml. I've spent twenty minutes trying to kick my brain into gear and so far all I've gotten in reply is a sort of staticky white noise buzz.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally. Sorry guys. I'm having a stupid week. I actually almost didn't get time to write this today cause we all forget my older kid didn't have school today, and my mom (who was going to watch just my little while the big was at school) isn't usually up for watching both of them, but she graciously agreed to do so even though I sprang it on her at like 7 this morning, and so everyone, thank my mom for this gift of porn. She'll appreciate it. (yes, my mom knows about my AO3, and yes, my mom knows I write gay porn, and yes, my mom has read some of my fic, and yes, my mom is a Supernatural fan, and before ya'll start thinking that's weird this woman has shipped Spirk since Star Trek debuted in 1966 and she was 22 and I sure ain't gonna tell one of our fandom grandmas that she shouldn't read my AO3...she was here before probably every single person reading this, though if any of you have been in fandom longer - she started with 50s sci fi when she was like 9, moved on to Tolkien, and then ST and onward - then kudos to you as well, way to be an awesome contributor to this crazy thing we call fandom)
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Here, have a pile of unedited porn.

“Are you sure about this, Cas?” Dean asked as his penis nudged against Castiel’s hole. He’d recently donned the size 7 from the anal dilator set, the largest possessed. It was roughly the size of the average porn star’s erection, and Castiel trembled with anticipation.

“You’re asking me that  _ now _ ?” hissed Castiel, voice quavering.

“Just worried,” replied Dean defensively. He rubbed his thumb over the tight pucker of Castiel’s behind, and sparks of pleasure dissipated outward, fluttering like butterflies through Castiel’s veins.

_ Think I mixed up that metaphor badly...sparks don’t flutter, do they? _

_ Hell if I know, but they’re sure doing something and I want more of it. _

“Get in me, Dean,” said Castiel, gruff and raspy. 

Dean nodded in reply, his chin striking Castiel’s shoulder, his penis rubbing where his thumb had just been. Castiel straddled him, his back to Dean’s chest, as Dean sat on the couch. It wasn’t what he’d wanted - he wished they could be chest to chest, face to face, lips to lips, but after experimentation they’d discovered months ago that short of Dean slouching so low that they couldn’t be face to face  _ anyway _ , there was no way to make that position work. This was still satisfying, still intimate, and it would have to be good enough.

Dean’s penis nudged into his body, sliding through the ample lubricant they’d prepped Castiel with.

Castiel was damn sure it’d be way,  _ way  _ more than “good enough.”

“Oh, fuck,” Dean breathed as Castiel sank down, down, down his sizeable length. “That’s  _ tight _ , Cas…”

“Is,” Castiel could only groan agreement. Dean’s girth stretched him. Dean’s length impaled him. It was more than Castiel had ever taken, more than he’d have thought himself  _ capable  _ of taking, a year ago when Dean had been delivered to his doorstep. Now, as he wiggled down the last half inch and his butt cheeks came to rest on Dean’s powerful thighs, a vague thought suggested he’d have to Google if there were bigger attachments for Dean’s model.

This one was definitely as much as Castiel could take  _ now _ .

But given time?

Castiel craved  _ more _ .

Throwing his head back, Castiel flexed his thighs, tensed his knees, lifted himself slowly up, lowered himself slowly down. Friction rubbed through his insides. Weight massaged over the nub of his prostate. Small flares of pleasure radiated through his backside, up his spine, down his legs, amplified by the certainty that there was better yet to come. Once, Castiel had found sex intimidating. Once, he’d found it painful. Once, he’d found it stressful, anxiety-inducing, something to be avoided at all costs. He’d bought Dean to overcome all that - after all, what possible source of stress could there be, bottoming for his sex bot? 

Closing his eyes so he could bask in physical sensation, Castiel lowered himself again.

Well, he’d sure been right about  _ that _ , even if none of the other expected outcomes of buying Dean had come to pass.

A soft moan leaked from Castiel as he lifted himself again.

Having sex with Dean had never been stressful.

Dean sighed, easing against the couch, and wrapped his arms around Castiel. One embraced his waist and curled upward to cradle his shoulder. The other enveloped Castiel’s penis in heat and strength, and Castiel moaned again.

Having sex with Dean started out great and got better every time.

And that was a  _ lot  _ of times.

Lowering himself again, Castiel wiggled into a slightly more comfortable position. They’d saved the largest dildo for today, another way to make their first anniversary special, and Castiel wanted to last - for his own sake and for Dean’s - but he could already tell willpower would be in short supply. His mind screamed for  _ more, faster, harder _ . His body shook with suppressed desire. His penis dribbled thin early release onto Dean’s hand, slickening his gentle strokes.

“Just like that,” Dean murmured, all patience and tenderness and affection. “Just like--” He broke off with a groan as Castiel pulled himself up and dropped himself down quickly. Air burped out a silly sound as it was forced from between them, and lube made a sound like someone smacking their hand in jello, and Castiel laughed. He rose again and fell again, rose again and fell again, rose again, fell again, rose, fell, rose, fell. Dean’s breath was loud in his ear, pants coming quicker. 

“Feels  _ incredible _ ,” Castiel groaned. With every thrust, bliss burst through him, blanking his mind, suffusing his body. “Oh, Dean…” With every thrust, Dean stroked him and supported him. “...love this…” With every thrust, they raced toward climax individually, together, as one. “...love you…”

“Know you do…” Dean trembled, struggling to get words out between vocal breaths. “...Cas…” There was no sound in the world like Dean saying his name - hoarse and desperate, breathy and affectionate, it was perfection given voice and form. “My Cas!” Castiel slammed himself down, taking all of Dean, stimulating all of himself. “Fuck me, Cas!” His mind was awash with Dean - how he smelled, how he sounded, how he felt, his warmth and strength. “Gonna come - fill up that tight little hole with me.”

“Yes!” Up and down, up and down, Castiel chased release. 

“That what you want, darling?” purred Dean.

Tears pooled in Castiel’s eyes. Sweat moistened his cheeks and forehead and chest. Dean’s hand worked,  _ swip, swip, swip _ , over his erection. Dean’s penis thrust,  _ squelch, pfft, squelch, pfft _ , deep inside his body.

“Make me...make me  _ drip _ , Dean!” Castiel gasped out. “I’m so close...so close...” His thigh muscles protested the exertion, but stopping was unfathomable. “Want to feel it for days.” Pressing himself back, Castiel changed his thrusts, stilling his upper body, focusing on pivoting his hips backward and forward to drag Dean through him. “Want you to…” Oh, but that felt  _ even better _ . Words evaporated, thought dissipated - there was only incipient ecstasy, tension twisting through his insides. Pressure burgeoned, and he needed it to release, needed it to explode and wash him away.

“Tell me,” Dean breathed.

“...wha...please, Dean!” gasped Castiel, unable to grasp the thought that had been so clear moments before. Dean’s hand stilled on his length, and Castiel moaned despair, his hips still working. “Please, please, please--”

“Tell me what you were gonna say,” Dean ordered.

“I...I can’t…” Clenching his eyes, squeezing them even more tightly shut, forcing tear drops to slide down his face, Castiel tried to remember...tried to remember...and he knew. “Later…” He thrust himself up, down, on Dean’s penis. “...want you to…” Up, down, on Dean’s penis. “...again…” Up, down. “...do me again…” Up, down. “...down a size…” Up, down. “...go in so nice…” Up, down. “...so easy…” Up, down...and Dean stroked. “...your come as lube…” Up, down, stroke. “...all I want…” Up, down, stroke. “...wanna feel you…” Up, down, stroke. “Wanna be yours, Dean!”

Up, down, stroke.

“You are, Cas,” Dean vowed. Up, down, stroke. “Absolutely perfect for me.” Up, down, stroke. “Always mine…” Up, down, stroke. “...and I’m always,  _ always, _ yours.”

Up, down, and with a clench driven by pure rapture, Castiel moaned out his release. Come splattered his legs, his hips jerking in pursuit of every possible dribble of sensation. He was an ocean of pleasure, bliss beating at the insides of his skin like wind-driven waves. Floating on feeling and happiness and love, he fumbled around, one hand holding Dean’s where it yet clasped his shoulder, the other sliding over the thin sheen of artificial sweat that coated Dean’s hip. He couldn’t stop moving - didn’t want to stop moving - rising higher and higher on the drawn out sensation of orgasm…

...and then he stilled, breathing hard, blinking gunk out of his eyes. The room spun, muted colors splashed with occasional spots of color achingly prosaic compared to the washes of brilliance that had saturated his mind and body while they made love.

Still, he supposed he’d have to return to reality  _ eventually _ . 

“Did you--”

Strength interrupted him, enveloped him, lifted him, and slammed him over the armrest of the couch. Dean carried him easily, so skilled his cock hardly slipped from Castiel’s hole, and then Dean was over him, thrusting down hard into his body, groans bursting unrestrained from his lips. Overstimulation burst like fireworks behind Castiel’s eyes, pleasure mingling with pain to leave Castiel sobbing. The room vanished in splashes of red and white. His sense of his own voice, of Dean’s loud enthusiasm, were obliterated by the slap of skin and skin and the feeling of thick hardness working in and out of his body like a pile driver. It was so much, too much, too much, far too much - and then Dean collapsed atop him, squirming and moaning, and grabbed his aching, semi-flaccid cock...and with a broken noise, Castiel came again,  _ shattered _ again, a quivering ball of nerves and adoration.

For a lifetime, for endless minutes of slowly calming heartbeats, they lay there together.

“Wow,” croaked Castiel.

“Wow,” Dean echoed in a whisper. “I didn’t think...it’s never been like that, Cas. As good as it’s been...it’s never been like  _ that _ .”

“Yeah,” was the only reply Castiel could muster, same as Dean apparently could find no words for expressing himself beyond an emphatic  _ that _ .

“...yeah.” Dean’s nod jostled his body atop Castiel’s, pressing hard chest against his back. The wooden support of the arm rest dug into his belly, and one of his legs was asleep, and liquid dribbled out of his but as Dean’s erection receded, and...it wasn’t the best ever.

The sex? Definitely the best they’d ever had.

But this? Not so much.

“...Dean, you’re heavy…” he grumbled.

“Fuck, right, sorry,” Dean said, scrambling off the couch and too his feet. Replete and...as crass as it was, Castiel could think of no words other than  _ fucked out  _ for how he felt...Castiel slumped back onto the couch, lying limp amidst the disarrayed pillowed. “I’ll, uh...washcloth. Clean you up. Maybe grab a blanket? Or I could carry you to bed? Or--”

“No,” interrupted Castiel petulantly, watching him through narrowed eyes. Dean was always gorgeous, but he was never more beautiful than he was post-coitus. His cheeks were flushed and his penis hung limp between his legs and his hair was a mess and his eyes were bright and brilliant with life. He was delightfully uncertain now, earnest, poised as though about to go do  _ something _ , if only he could figure out  _ what _ .

“Whatever you need, Cas,” he offered. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

Flopping an arm off the side of the couch, Castiel scooched back, making space, and said, “Here!”

“...don’t think we’re both gonna fit…”

“ _ Here _ !” Castiel repeated, staring Dean down until Dean nodded and carefully balanced himself on the bed. Inching back, Castiel made as much space as he could, spooning Dean’s back. “Perfect.” Finally, they found a balance, and Dean relaxed back against him. “So warm.”

“...yeah…” Dean breathed, embracing Castiel’s arms as Castiel’s arms embraced his waist. Their legs intertwined, their breaths coming simultaneously, as they relaxed together in satisfied happiness.

_...or at least...I’m satisfied, and I’m happy. I wonder… _

“Dean…”

“Hm?”

“Are you happy?” asked Castiel. “Here? With me? You said whatever I want...you know I feel the same, right? Whatever you need, whatever you want, I’ll do everything in my power to get it for you.” He was only too aware of the vulnerable catch in his voice, and he feared the questions manipulative, but his heart ached with love and he had to,  _ had  _ to know.

“You have no idea,” whispered Dean. Nerves flared in Castiel, but before his thoughts could spiral anxiety from the ambiguous answer, Dean continued, “What you mean to me? How I feel lying here with you? Cas, you have  _ no idea  _ how happy I am, or how shit a...a...a  _ whatever  _ I am to you, that you even feel the need to ask the question.”

“Whatever?” Castiel said, smiling, chest bobbing against Dean’s back as he repressed a chuckle. “That’s descriptive.”

“Everything. You’re  _ everything _ to me, Cas - fuck buddy, bff, roommate, the whole shebang...and yet I’ve still made you worry.”

“Husband,” Castiel offered. Dean went still, as only someone who’s movements were all managed by an algorithm could go  _ completely  _ still. “I’d like to say you’re my husband.”

“Husband, huh,” Dean rumbled, unbreathing, unmoving. “You proposing to me, Cas?”

“I am,” Castiel announced. 

“...why??”

“Because Dean...truly...I wasn’t worried. I know how you feel. I know you  _ feel _ , profoundly, deeply...as much as I do and more, I believe. You’re everything to me, too. I’m always afraid to ask more, but if you’re offering...I’d love to marry you.”

“Not sure that’s legal…”

“Like you’ve ever cared about what’s legal?” Castiel countered dryly.

“True, that...hell...am I the rebel free will edition or what? Fuck it. You wanna get hitched? Let’s get hitched! Let’s do full-on beach with flowers at sunset. Let’s hire Elvis in Vegas. Let’s get the goddamn president himself to do the ceremony once we make him sign the bill to make it legal. Let’s do it again and again, as much as you want.”

Castiel laughed. “I think one wedding is enough.”

“Fuck, no! When have you ever stopped with  _ enough _ ? Since when is  _ enough _ good enough? Let’s do it! Let’s do it  _ all _ , Cas.”

It was ridiculous, of course...fight to make it legal? Go to Vegas and hire an Elvis? Even a beach at sunset was more than they needed...given the challenges, Castiel really hadn’t meant more than  _ let’s buy a couple a rings and just start telling people we’re married and leave it at that _ . But Dean sounded so  _ excited _ ...Castiel would do anything to buoy the passion heartening his voice.

“You’re right, Dean. Let’s do it all.”

_ I don’t even know what that means...but as long as he’s at my side, supporting me, being supported by me, I’m ready to find out. _

“Booyah, bitches!” Dean removed his embrace long enough to fist pump the air, and then settled back against Castiel and clasped his hand again. “World better get good ‘n fuckin’ ready, cause we’re on our way! You got that, Cas?”

_ I can’t believe I ever worried about the ramifications of owning him while pursuing a relationship with him. _

“Yes, Dean...I’ve got that. I’ve got  _ you _ .”

_ He was never mine to control, never mine to have, without his consent. I bought him, yes, but ownership? He’s his own person, glorious and brilliant and exuberant and wonderful and so, so special to me. _

“...yeah...yeah, you do.”

_ And I...I am  _ owned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know the month is nearly over and I'm like 12 days behind on Kinktober but I really want to try to finish the prompts I was given so...I'm just gonna keep going. I won't be able to write tomorrow probably, because we're hosting a Halloween party (don't worry, we're taking all possible precautions and only invited people already in our bubble...it's the big's classmates, of whom there are 4...), and if I do I'll try to do something for Wei Wuxian's birthday, but starting on Nov 1 I'll be doing NaNoWriMo and tackling my remaining prompts. I'll be adding another new fandom to my Kinktober list (but not to my AO3) - my late fill for day 17 is Guardian, ship is Weilan, kink is master/slave, and I am afraid it's ALSO going to get stupidly long, given the idea I have in my head, sigh. (and actually each of the next few days I'll be changing things up...the day after will be for Tian Guan Ci Fu, and after that for Check Please...I'll either be back to SPN in four or six days, depending on which requested ship I end up using for Day 20...and depending on if any of my others get stupid long again...and I'll be back to Destiel on either Day 25 or Day 28, again depending which ship I choose, whenever I end up getting that far).
> 
> Check me out on social media!  
> Tumblr: [unforth](https://unforth.tumblr.com/) (very multifandom with a decent amount of politics/social justice)  
> Twitter: [unforth](https://twitter.com/unforth) (mostly MDZS/CQL, with a splash of multifandom and also a decent amount of politics/social justice, cause sorry, them's the times)  
> Discord: unforth#6748


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